


and the world burns

by avislightwing



Series: Snapshots of Static [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (more or less), Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Memory Loss, POV Second Person, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: You’re standing on the deck of the Starblaster, and you’re watching the animal planet be destroyed.You hate yourself for caring.





	and the world burns

You’re standing on the deck of the Starblaster, and you’re watching the animal planet be destroyed.

Fuck, it’s a sight to see. The black opal of whatever it is shimmers in the light of this plane’s one sun. Your hands grip the railing, and the cold metal bites deep into your skin, your bones. You’re not sure you can breathe from the beauty and the horror of it all. You feel dizzy.

_Destroyed. Destroyed. Destroyed._

You hate yourself for caring.

The only thing you should care about is this:  here you are, standing on the deck, and your sister is clutching at the sleeve of your jacket hard enough you’re surprised it doesn’t tear. She’s crying – hot tears, streaming and steaming off her face, which is so contorted you don’t know whether she’s more sad or more angry. She hadn’t cried last time, a year ago. She hadn’t taken a breath as you all watched your home (that’s what it had been, despite all her insistence to the contrary) be ravaged by that same force you’re observing now. You think you prefer this way. It seems more like her. Loud, obvious, powerful. Not like that frightening stillness.

You can see the others out of the corners of your eyes. Barry’s slumped against the wall of the cabin, head in his hands. He’s not crying, you don’t think, but he’s shaking, and huddled into his robe like he could disappear into it. Davenport’s at the wheel, of course, clutching it white-knuckled. Lucretia and Merle are both still standing, unlike Barry. Merle looks crunchier than usual – debris and twigs stuck in his beard from a year in the woods – and behind his glasses, his eyes look old. He has his hand on Lucretia’s arm. She has one of her journals open, pen poised to write, but the tip doesn’t touch paper.

And – Magnus.

He’s down there, somewhere, with the burning world and related fuckery. Getting himself killed, no doubt.

Part of you hopes that’s why you care, because you can’t care about a whole planar system. Not if this is going to keep happening.

You want to throw something, so you do. Borrow a page from Lup’s book and chuck a fireball across the deck, into the void of space, and you scream and curse and flip the whatever-it-is off with one hand and this whole planar system off with the other.

You shouldn’t _care_.

And yet you find yourself thinking about the mongoose family you and Barry and Lup befriended – gone. The three Royal Beasts – gone. Every creature on that plane, every blade of grass, every atom. Gone.

Then Lup’s hugging you so tight you can’t breathe, and you’re both burning with fire and fury and frustration that you couldn’t stop this, and that’s where you are when your vision goes dazzling white.

******

You’re at the bottom of a well, and Phandolin is burning above you.

You’re whimpering and clawing at your ears. The blaze is so loud you can barely think around it, but in a way you’re glad, because then you can’t hear any screams – not anymore. Orange-red flames dance above you, stark against the sky, and you feel an overwhelming sense of vertigo for a moment. It’s beautiful, and horrific, and you feel as if you could tip your head up and fall into the flame-painted night.

You shouldn’t care.

After all, you’re alive, aren’t you? All four of you are. Killian’s unconscious, crumped in a heap on the ground. Merle’s across from you, and the light is glinting off his glasses, hiding his eyes. In the second before your eyes locate Magnus, though, you feel a surge of gut-wrenching panic, like he isn’t going to be there. But then your eyes lock onto him, and for some reason he opens his arms, and the next thing you know they’re wrapped around you.

You don’t cry – that’s never been your style. You just haven’t been held in so long, and it feels good, and you missed it.

_you missed what?_

Not being held by Magnus. Of course. Or being held by anyone. (How could you miss what you never had?)

The vertigo gets worse, not better. Your head is full of static and smoke, and it feels like you’ve been here before –

_not here, not exactly_

_watching something burn_

_having someone hold you_

The world is burning and you shouldn’t care, but you do.

_you used to_

_you used to care about them and about her_

_\- who is she?_

You can’t feel Magnus’s arms around you anymore, because he’s dead.

_why would he be dead?_

Merle asks if you’re all right, and he puts a hand on your arm, and Magnus wraps an arm around the old dwarf as well. He protests, but only half-heartedly.

_and there’s something about it that feels familiar_

The world is ending, you think.

But then the flames disappear and you climb out of the well

_you reform in your recorded position_

and you look around at the perfect, glistening circle of black glass

_and you look into the darkness surrounding another twelve-disc planar system_

and you’re alive, you’re all alive somehow, but it still hurts

_here’s Magnus, he’s back, why does it still hurt_

*****

Apathy is a hell of a drug.

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm just going to be playing around with all the boys and their staticked memories. Maybe I'll write one for Magnus. I keep getting inspired.
> 
> Find me [@birdiethebibliophile](birdiethebibliophile.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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